Forgetting, Remembering

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Original photography by Tara Whitney

I’m basking in our family bed these days. I am loving lying between my girls and rolling into their breaths and tiny arms, stretching into their cold, bare feet and sleepily opening my eyes to their dreaming faces. I catch my breath at their dreaming faces – sweet baby lips parted and puckered. I’m grateful to know the sighs and sounds and feeling of them in sleep. One day my bed will be just for my husband and me. I will be giddy like a school girl but I will cry, too. Certainly I will cry, because my babies won’t be babies and I won’t know what their no-longer-babies-sleep is like. So now and for as long as it will last, I will inhale them, their sleepy breath and kicky feet and funny slumber poses. I’ll nuzzle up next to them and be obnoxiously in love, I’ll spoon and kiss and whisper. I’ll envy your deep sleep, your dreams. Fall in love every nighttime second with your pure and your sweet. There are moments, once in a magical blue moon, when one of you will open your eyes while I’m staring all lovesick at your dreaming faces. Your eyes flutter open and the bitty corners of your mouths turn up and smile, a drunken, sleepy, groggy-groggy smile. I want to grab those and put them somewhere safe so one day when I’ve forgotten and I’m not shining bright and need a little light, a little memory will tap me on my shoulder and whisper, “Remember when?”

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